The last run of the winter's warting season took us up Parkin Clough to the top of Win Hill to see the back end of a beautiful sunset in calm and very benign conditions, a contrast to previous weeks. Jupiter, Venus and Mars were visible and the mood was one of jollity and gayness as spring approached. The only notable misery was of course Capt. Harmer, bemoaning the approach of summer and daylight and remembering that we'll have to hammer him up in his coffin for the summer months until September and the start of another glorious warting season! Anyway.... the run continued west along the ridge until someone accused Capt. of being a road runner!! This resulted in a completely pointless detour off Hope Brinks and then back up to the top of the ridge again - woe betide anybody calling the Capt. a road runner! From here, a pleasant descent ensued which eventually took us to the bottom of Jagger's Clough via a pretty woodland path! True warting kicked in at this point as we eventually made it to Crookstone Knoll, although it has to be said that there were a number of "splitters" in the group who insisted on taking their own route against the advice of the Safety Officer! The last whisky, jelly babies and raspberry ruffles of the season were taken here and amidst much grumbling from Capt., we set off back up the ridge in a linear fashion and not the true circular one which is normal on a warts' run. Somewhere along the way, we took the wrong path (Mr Holmes was probably to blame) and ended up running many miles through the woods and then ending up a mile or so from where we were meant to be! But... Mr Holmes had his road run along the reservoir road, so at least he was happy! See you next Autumn
A select group of hearty warts set off from the nether parts of our region near Saltersbrook on the Woodhead Road. A cool night but very still, so no epic but nonetheless a testing part of the Peaks (with lots of variety, Mr H.) We set off up one of the "Small Cloughs" onto the watershed, which was predictably moist and then to the small sheep fold somewhere below Barrow Stones (which we are assured will be a checkpoint in the next club champs!). From here we went to Barrow Stones and quaffed whisky but no Raspberry Ruffles. It should be noted, at this point, that the group throughout the run was consumate in its coherence. In the absence of Mr Holmes who had joined the southern (very) softies, there were no splitters and consequently, nobody wondering who or what that light was in the distance!! After this we went downhill (literally, not metaphorically) and then up Hoar Clough to some extremely moist ground and then back to the cars. We had a drink at the Dog and Partridge, an excellent little boozer and one to recommend!
Another epic! We started off in cold but fairly clear conditions, with that sense of deja vu from last week's run! However, instead of the Boundary stones, we battled our way up to Black Holes with the occasional snow flurry to cool us down! From here, we slogged through the knee deep heather with the occasional burst of running to remind us that we are finely tuned athletes, up to Lost Lad. Mr Hakes was now a distant light off the back of the group, so we duly abandoned him to his fate. A fine bit of running was had from here, with a direct line towards Gravy cabin via a precipitous cliff both up and down, warting at its best. Whisky and raspberry ruffles were partaken at the cabin in the relative calm. Berrister's Tor and Abbey Brook were next and about this time, the snow began with a vengeance turning into a white out by the time we had ascended Abbey Brook. Now...a point must be made about a certain "leader" who gave mixed messages! I distinctly heard a mention of Cartledge Flats as the next "checkpoint" and so a group of 5 of us set out for this in the freezing, whiteout conditions and stood around on the verge of imminent demise waiting for the others whom, it transpired had missed out the summit and opted for the easier route (what are the warts coming to?) aiming directly for the finish. Anyway...we managed to meet up with them after some cursing and went direct to the pub, in the now very bright moonlight.
The Southern Warts (or Southern Softies if you must) hooked up with the Roadies at the Barrel Inn for post run refreshment. It was advertised as a "full moon" run, and whilst we saw glimpses of said moon they were few and far between. We did manage a good fast run though, starting through the bumpy bits in Bretton Clough, and finishing up the hill from Stoke Ford. A vast improvement on last year's attempt in zero visibility when we were lost for the best part of two hours.
A select bunch of ageing athletes forewent the pleasures of Ringinglow for a heartier trip to the Strines given that it was such a beautiful night, cloudless and mild. We made for the Derwent Edge via the Boundary Stones and Pepper Pot tending to swing to the left as Mr Harmer eschewed the advice to follow the well worn track, instead choosing to take the assembled group some way off the target rocks (oh dear), then down to the small packhorse bridge and up to the top of Pike Lowe, where whisky (but no Raspberry Ruffles) was partaken in the fine moonlight. A gentle trudge through the very moist bog towards Lost Lad and Howshaw Tor. Then a final direct line to the pub, which had a curry night on. An excellent night!
A splendid clear warm evening for fast footpath running with a top route devised by Moz including Houndkirk Hill, ex- Bull Nose Header (who would pinch a brick?) Unhidden Totley Trig, Hidden Totley Trig, & Houndkirk Hill revisited. The dip in the ground next to the unhidden trig providing a perfect shelter for the Whisky & Sour Sweet & Mars Bar & Winegum stop, before everyone braced themselves for what was surely going to be a long search led by yours truly to find the hidden trig, just beyond the stepping stones at the foot of Blackamoor. To everyone's surprise including mine, it was found without fuss which put us in good heart for the blast back to the Norfolk Arms. They cant be many finer feelings than having a good fast, bracken, heather & bog free run, followed by sitting on a leather settee with your clubmates (well those that can be bothered cross Redmires Road anyway) with a pint of Moonshine in your hand. AM We now have a track, albeit cobbled together from 2 incomplete ones, and missing the second climb of Houndkirk Hill.
A run which will surely go down in the anals as a "thank f... we survived it!" It started off inauspiciously by pissing down with the sort of rain that gets into every orifice, the path down Doctors Gate was a small fast flowing river, no sign of drought on Bleaklow. At some point we turned right into a clough and then proceeded to scale an "Extreme" cliff, which certainly set the bowels moving. Penny has cause to remember this for some time as she froze on the smallest of slippery ledges with nothing but black void above and below (Quote: "I signed up to do fell running not bloody rock climbing!") The next point was a pond, 'nough said and then up the edge of Dowstone Clough with the sound of a raging torrent that would have swept all before it had we attempted to cross it, well below. Some daft chough (Tom Westgate) decided that Bleaklow Head would be a good place to visit and so we did and it wasn't, but amazingly we did find it in the black void. By this time it was agreed by all but Tom that we had had enough fun and so set off in a southerly direction in the freezing cold, black void. It has to be noted that Messrs Westgate and Holmes, after suggesting that we follow their lead in the void, disappeared and abandoned the rest of the party to their fate. The Safety Officer (had he been available) would have been beside himself with rage at this gross neglect and blatant abandonment of standard procedure but most of us were too knackered to care just wanting to get back to the cars in any direction. So after talking Maurice out of going back north again, we set off south and, praise be, found the path. An interesting "run" and one which was quite nice when it ended!
It made a pleasant change to run in the White Peak. No trudging through heather, without trespassing, needing to climb walls, barbed wire or fences. A trip through the Cressbrook Tunnel was added to the Thornbridge race route where the going was soft, the excrement around the farms deep and the views excellent - it was a bit quieter out there than the traditional August date for that route though. Post race beers were taken at the Monsal Head Stable Bar where the Buxton Blonde and Wincle Undertaker Bitter were on fine form Jim
Some 25 or so finely tuned Dark Peak athletes plus a guest from Kendal AC set out on this mild night. The run started with a wade through the upper reaches of the reservoir, followed by a long drag up to Wet Stones, the navigation to which was impeccable! From here we set off in an optimistic frame of mind to find the picnic tables and tin shack which is somewhere in a clough somewhere in the moor. To our amazement, we found it without any bother and consumed whisk(e)y and sundry snack items at the tables, it has to be said that the service was poor, however. From here, we set off to find the Stirling bomber wreck. Now bear in mind that this is on a featureless bit of moor and that we approached it from a featureless bit of moor, so, being honest, the chances of finding a bit of pipe sticking up in the dark featureless moor were slim! And so it proved to be. Search abandoned we set off for Margery Hill trig which was found with the usual accuracy. From here the group split, those that actually fancied a run went down Cut Gate, the walkers went over Cranberry Clough and arrived back much later! Oh and happy birthday to Jim who enjoyed the perfect 58th birthday treat!
A very pleasant run through the snow via the Dukes Road, Fox Stones, Pike Low and the tram-track bridge. Harmony prevailed all night, and the Belgian Blue slipped down nicely in the Nags thereafter. Good to see Mr Harvey (aka "God") in attendance, and young master Beresford for some of the proceedings. A reet good night all round.
Broomhead access gate being a step too far for some of us, we assembled at Hugh's Hut in Stoney Middleton for a run over to Longstone Moor, ably led by Peter Gorvett. An uneventful run apart from the section on the way home when a cow decided to join in. Fortunately a few sharp words sent it on its way. Excellent refreshment in the Moon inn, where we outnumbered the rest of the customers by 3:1.
A mild night and a good turnout. Moz was to be congratulated for designing a course that even he managed to get lost on, as he (and a number of others) failed to find the pond near Friar's Ridge which those that did find it, did so as a pure fluke!! The going was officially described as "moist" to good which meant that we were wading knee deep through a good portion of this "race" The checkpoints for interests sake where:
Ten hardy souls ventured forth from Midhope led by Capt Harmer and Sergeant Hakes, no safety officer was on show here but with Westgate and Winterburn we knew we were in safe hands. The first point of call was the cabin, from there the wet boggy track ventured higher in the the teeth of a biting wind. The plan was a direct line to the Margary hill however having drifted close to cutgate a quick trip out to inspect the UXB discovered by Russ a few weeks earlier. More on the shells will appear in next Christmas's newsletter ;) The group split slightly as one section went straight at MH and the others taking a less direct route by running up Cutgate. The masses gathered on MH before some discussion by the Capt and Private Westgate on the precise bearing to the Stirling wreck, now I'm not certain how important those 5 degrees were but 10-15 minutes later miraculously we were gathered around the wreck site, A few more photos before we chose to find a bit more shelter to have raspberry whirls from Mr Holmes and our first whisky stop. It was here that the Capt decided to cartwheel down a clough to; first the amusement of the troops then to the concern of the group however he was soon up and off again to Pike Low. Another whisky and with every one signed in and Winterburn led off back to the cars with the Barber hounds in hot pursuit. Brigadier Sanderson had counted them out and counted them back. To his pleasure all were present and correct so a trip round the corner to the Wagon and Horses for a few pints of Timmy Taylor's where Hakes open the market stall and started selling the new DP shirts to any one who promised to pay him later.
A two hour forty minute epic, rumour has it, from the Sportsman to the traditional subterranean traverse of Hathersage. No idea who was there, since I'd been diverted at the last minute to attend my fair daughter's A level choices evening. All being well therefore, a fuller account, and perhaps even a track, might follow in due course. Meanwhile, ten Guerrillas were playing about on Bleaklow, visiting a pond and the odd wreck in the vicinity of James's Thorn. A good time had by all, it is alleged.
The pre-champs potter was distinguished first by the high proportion of women taking part - a good third of our number by my estimation - and second by the quite atrocious line to the Knoll taken by editor-in-chief Holmes. Other local landmarks included the Ruby and Head Stones, Ocean View - this time not quite so direct - and the conduit tunnel. Oh, and to further taint his credibility, young David then produced a flask of cooking rum at the whisky stop. The pressures of publishing to a strict deadline are clearly taking a heavy toll ...
A moderate gathering with even Jim Fulton (whom, more of later) and the Safety Officer, not known for gracing us with his presence away from the guerilla warting sub-sub section outings. The route took us up a new footpath from the dam up towards Holdsworth and then, using a degree of local knowledge, to Kirk Edge and Onesmoor trig where whisky was consumed in the almost tropical conditions. From here, a more or less standard descent into High Bradfield, alongside the reservoir and then up towards the source of the Limpopo. It was around here that Mr Fulton managed to detach himself from the posse (despite us waiting for some length of time for him to appear!!) and probably, although we will never be able to verify this, followed the route of the Dungworth race despite there being a well known short cut. His response upon being asked where he had got to was short and to the point!! ps rumour has it that there will; be some warts garments available for viewing and purchase next Wednesday
A starry starry night and a good turnout for a surprisingly orderly traverse of Houndkirk Moor, down and up to Totley trig, a bit of messing around in tussocks en route to Burbage Edge, and a gentle canter back to the vehicles. Good to see Roy G back in circulation and two or three other new faces.
Somewhat disconcertingly, there was a good deal of talk of maps and the use thereof, which slowed progress markedly in the first half of our jaunt. Fortunately no-one seemed able to spot Bamford stone circle on their bits of dampening paper, so we were left to fall back upon Andy's native cunning soon enough and, to some considerable whooping, our great leader was the first to alight upon this oft bypassed antiquity. Thereafter there was more route marching to Hordron stone circle and thence back via the bus shelter and some quite appalling tussocks and bog (for those foolish enough to follow your correspondent). All in all, quite pleasant in a wet and wind-blown kind of way - and at a little over 9 miles, rather more effort than most of us had anticipated.
A sub tropical night with temperatures more reminiscent of mid summer in the south of France. 27 runners set off on this inaugural 2011/12 warts runs. There was an unusual sense of agreement about the route! Normally we have at least 10 minutes argument prior to any warts run but this time it was agreed that we climb Fairbrook Naze, across the bog to Kinder Gates and then to Redbrook top. A precipitous descent took us to somewhere near, well actually quite a bit above, Mermaid's Pool but, hell, it was near enough. The first whisky of the year and raspberry truffles were consumed in this sub-tropical paradise. After this it was straight back via the other Redbrook with much fragmentation of the group, a worrying portent for future runs!
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